She's the Ash
by Imaginari-Mari
Summary: Craig’s debut album has been out for months, and Ashley’s never really listened to its songs. What she does hear comes as less of a shock, but more as a pleasant surprise. CrAsh; fills in the blanks between the end of “Live To Tell” and “Bust a Move."
1. Thinking

**She's the Ash**

**Chapter 1: Thinking**

**Synopsis:** Craig's debut album has been out for months, and Ashley's never listened – really listened - to its songs. What she does hear comes as less of a shock, but more as a pleasant surprise. CrAsh; fills in the blanks between the end of "Live To Tell" and "Bust a Move"

I was mumbling to myself as I shifted my messenger bag to my other hip while I stood on the steps of my house, trying to balance my books as I tried to open the door to my house.

"Stupid, stupid you. Thinking that it could work out? Jeez, Ashley."

I managed to get my key in the door and unlock it. I stumbled in, my balance overthrown as the door swung open. My textbooks fell out of my left hand and spilled onto the floor; all I was left holding was my journal, clutching it tightly.

I cursed loudly and slammed the door, then paused, waiting for my mother's inevitable admonishment. It didn't come.

Good.

I was alone in the house; no Toby, no Mom, and no Jeff to question my obscenities and anger, to ask about school and NYU and Jimmy.

God, Jimmy.

I was so angry with myself; how had I allowed myself to fall into the same trap with Jimmy again – the same trap I had fallen into with _every_ guy – again? How had I become a babysitter instead of a girlfriend?

I had become a 'crutch'- an ironic word from the man whose probability to walk again was so high. I was only support; I only maintained, never challenged. I was never the lover, never the inspiration. I was never his muse, nor his motivation.

But I don't think I ever wanted to be.

That's probably why I deleted hi track off of my song. I had never fully understood my motives beyond "not wanting to be in his shadow, like I was with Craig." I didn't want to be his musical crutch. That's how I explained it to myself at the time, but that only scratched the surface of _why_ I did it.

But, really, I wasn't doing it for myself. I was doing it because of Craig

He had jumpstarted my focus on music again, with his song stealing and his artistic success working in tandem to inspire me to find my own voice, away from him, and away from Jimmy. So, in a way, Jimmy was my crutch, too.

I began to pick up my books, and once all had been placed into a pile, I carried them to the kitchen table and set them down, not planning to return to them. I had more important things to worry about than homework.

I grabbed a snack from the fridge, bypassing my usual post break-up comfort food of popcorn with Parmesan cheese in favor of an orange. It felt odd, but I didn't need the comfort this time around. I wasn't upset, and didn't care that Jimmy had broken up with me; it didn't feel like a loss.

I walked up the stairs, orange in one hand and my journal still in the other, my bag bouncing on my hip as I climbed higher, Once I reached my room, I tossed the bag on my bed and heard the distinctive sound of my typically coin-filled wallet hitting plastic.

I pulled my paisley scarf off of my head and yanked off my beaded tank top, suddenly feeling like those clothes weren't _me_ anymore. I looked into my closet and grimaced at the presence of floral patterns and fluffy sweaters. There was no way in hell that I was putting any of that on.

I reached blindly into my drawers and pulled out a t-shirt, not caring which one I took out since it had been so long since I had worn them. I needed to get back to the basics of the self that I had lost since returning to Degrassi.

It was fitting, then, that I found myself holding my Ramones t-shirt a gift from a certain someone four Christmases ago.

My basics – my true honest self, in which I was no one's crutch and could stand on my won – began and ended with Craig Manning.

I plopped down on my bed and pulled the shirt on, then opened my black vinyl messenger bag. It was the first time I had used this one in a while. I had spilled soda on the designer bag Jimmy had gotten me for Christmas, the one by some designer in the States that every girl wanted this year, and I had pretended to adore it.

It was fitting, then, that the day I used my bad from grades 10 and 11, filled again with my journal and my music, Jimmy and I broke up.

Everything was "fitting" today.

I turned the bag over onto my bed, emptying all of its contents onto my comforter. Out fell my iPod, my cell phone, and my planner, all essential to my everyday activities, which I set on my nightstand like I did everyday after school. The usual knickknacks also cascaded out onto the maroon bedspread: a patch of the UK flag which I had yet to attach back onto the bag it had fallen off of, a bunch of plastic dogs Ellie and I had gotten out of a vending machine the last time we had went out for pizza, and lastly, the clay heart Jimmy had made for our eight month anniversary in grade eight.

I looked at it, marveling at my own pathetic attempt to convince myself that he loved me and that I loved him. I picked it up, turning it over a few times, then threw it, hard, against the wall behind my desk; it shattered, the pieces falling into the garbage can next to the desk. The only remnants of its existence were the tiny shards on my rig, and the sienna-brown splotch it had mad eon the white wall.

Perfect.

The last item that had fallen out of my bag was not usually in it: a newly bought CD, still it cellophane wrapping. I had passed by the music store on my way back home after school, and saw the album in the window- it's creator was having a CD signing in Stouffville, and anyone who bought the CD was entered into a raffle to get a chance to meet the artist in person.

The prize wasn't something I cared about; I had entered anyway, but I knew I could get the artist's number from someone if I really needed to talk to him.

What I did care about was the fact that it was Craig's album.

I hadn't bought it when it first debuted/ I had refused to, on the grounds that he had stolen my music and I wanted to make something of my own, uninfluenced by him in anyway.

I had never listened to the album. I knew that one of the songs – "I Still Miss You" – had gone to number one, but I didn't listen to the radio anymore.

Well, with a fresh start to myself comes fresh ideas, and I knew I needed to finally listen to Craig's CD. _Closure_, I told myself. _I'm only listening for closure. Nothing else. _

I tore the plastic off of the CD, cursing the genius who had decided that it should be impossible to open a CD in under a millennia. I placed the disk in my stereo and pressed play, feeling free to turn up the volume, since no one else was home.

I settled down on my bed, my back against my pillows journal and pen in hand ready for…something.

Closure. Inspiration. Anything but my current apathy.


	2. Listening

**She's the Ash**

**Chapter 2: Listening**

**Synopsis: **Craig's debut album has been out for months, and Ashley's never listened – really listened - to its songs. What she does hear comes as less of a shock, but more as a pleasant surprise. CrAsh; fills in the blanks between the end of "Live To Tell" and "Bust a Move

**A/N: **I know that these song titles are not the _actual_ ones on Craig's "Of Two Minds" album on Degrassi. I wanted to make up my own titles that would help Ashley realize just what she's thinking about herself, Craig, and perhaps the two of them together. I also apologize if this has been done before, or if it bears any similarities to anyone else fanfics; I have never read one like this, but then again, I haven't read Degrassi fanfiction in a while. Also, I know I bash on Manny in this chapter; trust me, Ash's attitude toward her gets better, but while I think Cassie Steele is talented, I want to push Mannuella Santos off a roof. :]

**---**

"Of Two Minds," the perfect title for his album, began playing.

The first song started fast and punchy and very pop-punk, a far cry away from the funk sound he had developed while I was in England. I loved that he had gone back to his roots on the first track; it somehow validated what I was doing right then, going back to my own.

The song was called "Mania," and the jarring guitar riffs, rhythmically dominant lyrics and head-pounding bass drum reminded me so much of Craig before his medication, before his diagnosis, when he trashed our hotel room and beat up Joey, his body desperate to release the extra energy and hysteria his mind was creating.

It was amazing to me how he could not only make remember those times so perfectly, but also how he put me in his place; I saw everything and felt everything from his perspective, just from a song.

He was so talented, so in tune with himself. _I used to be that in tune with him._

The second song was the one obviously about Manny, the one, apparently, where Craig finally realized that the little slut was the absolute worst choice for him. "Thong Girl, Wrong Girl," indeed.

The song began at a medium tempo, starting off with just the drums and the base creating a tone that was simultaneously regretful and angry. The guitar came in after a few bars, high-pitched and fast. I giggled; it was Manny's speaking voice when she was upset, to a tee.

A few hoarse, shallow breaths sounded over the instruments, startling me. They were vulgar and suggested that something lurid was occurring in the studio as they were recording. A moan, and then a sigh, then the song shifted: it was fast, sharp-edged, and drum driven. Craig's voice chimed in, husky and coarse, very much unlike his normal smooth tenor.

He sang:

_Everything had been going right_

_Me and my girl were doin' fine_

_But another caught my eye_

_And I was all caught up_

_Lust burning, head spinning_

_For the girl in the too short shorts_

_Thong-girl, wrong girl_

_Her kisses and caresses too sweet_

_I threw away lo-o-o-ove_

_For the wrong girl_

_For the thong girl_

_For someone I could never love. _

_Everything was secret, hush hush_

_Me and thong girl were doin' fine_

_But my girl was one the side_

_And I was all caught up_

_Lust burning, head hurting_

_My baby had too much faith in me_

_Thong-girl, wrong girl_

_Her kisses and caresses too sweet_

_I threw away lo-o-o-ove_

_For the wrong girl_

_For the thong girl_

_For someone I could never love. _

_And it all came crashing down_

_I got cocky, I got tricky_

_And my baby found out_

_I had fallen for the thong girl,_

_The wrong girl_

_And forgot what meant most to me_

_Now I'm all alone,_

_Oh_

_All alone_

_Thong-girl, wrong girl_

_Her kisses and caresses too sweet_

_I threw away lo-o-o-ove_

_For the wrong girl_

_For the thong girl_

_For someone I could never love. _

_The thong-girl- the wrong girl!_

My hands shook as the guitar continued, riffing and deafening, the drums pounding on. It was astounding how well he understood that he had not only hurt me in the process of cheating with many, but hurt himself his well. The song was brilliant.

The next song was called 'Low." It was a medium tempo song as well, about loneliness and loss that perfectly complimented the last song.

"Thong Girl, Wrong Girl." He couldn't have been more right, and even he knew it. I had never understood his attraction to her, and after that song, I realized that he hadn't quite understood it himself.

And he regretted it. I was "his girl," his "baby," and the song spoke of his regret for throwing what we had away. "Low" showcased just how much he regretted throwing what we had away for a girl who considered her ass to be her best feature.

"Low" also spoke of abandonment in the second verse, and my heart sunk. It spoke of London and loss and how the two were synonymous to him now, always bringing him lower and lower and down. He sang of his love running away, from him and her own fears, and how if only she had come back, he could have made them go away. The guilt weighed down on me, crushing, my heart frozen.

Thankfully, the next song clicked on, and the guilt eased a bit. Leaving for London was something I had to address within myself- why I was always running away from my problems and thinking that it would all work itself out as long as I wasn't around. I shook my head; I was at least taking a positive step in recognizing these flaws and finally listening to this CD. I had stopped running away from the memory of Craig and me, at least.

The song that had begun playing was called, "Please Sir," an alternated between a piano-driven ballad and a rock song, the mood shifting in verse to chorus from anxiety to anger to fear, and ended in relief.

It was about his dad.

It struck me again that he was so talented; he could tap into so many long buried emotions and memories that had been bottled up for years to make me feel what he felt. There were only three people who knew what had happened between Craig and his father- Sean, Joey, and I. But Sean and I eventually disappeared and Joey became wrapped up in Caitlin and Angie. Craig had no one.

_Only your headstone listens_

_Only your headstone pretends to care_

For the millionth time since that cab drove away, my heart broke for my selfishness and for abandoning him.

The song ended with Craig singing a cappella, the silence taking over as he nearly whispered, "I forgive you."

I froze.

He-he had done it. He had forgiven his father for all of the pain and anger and mental damage he had caused.

He had let go.

I felt tears well up; I suddenly felt so proud of him for chasing those demons away so forcefully and for good, and for doing it in a way that he loved. His music had obviously become more of a release than an escape, and everything he had pent up inside of his heart and head was rushing out into my hears through those beautiful melodies and lyrics that I knew he had written himself.

I knew that he just wanted to be free, of the memories and the pain. He was starting to overcome them through this album – this collection of emotions.

I wiped the moisture away with a tissue as the next song clicked on. This one was fast, and reminded me of "Mania" – but it was a lot more focused, a lot punchier. I looked at the track list; it was called "Snow Day."

I was confused. Why this title? It seemed like such a childish theme for an otherwise serious album.

But the lyrics began, and as the song progresses, the hidden meaning of the title was crystal clear. Snow, powder. Sniffing, making snow angels in his head, limbs shaking from the cold that only existed inside of his mind

Cocaine.

I knew he had been addicted; I knew he had tried to pin it on Manny, telling Ellie that the drugs were hers. I knew he had tried to manipulate Ellie and trick her into thinking that he loved her so that he could keep his drugs.

That wasn't the Craig I knew; that wasn't MY Craig. And this song acknowledged that mistake- he had again used his music to help him heal – and I couldn't help but wonder if he had written this one while he was in rehab.

The next song was the one written about Ellie- "Red-Headed For Trouble." I was a little concerned about listening to this one; El was still my best friend, and I knew she and Craig weren't – for good reason – friends anymore. I didn't want to hear a song about how much of a bitch he thought she was when any sort of resentment on his part was definitely misplaced.

It was another rock song, but this one was less aggressive than the rest; it was playful, fun, even friendly. I was relieved.

He sang:

_I knew a redheaded girl_

_A friend, my best friend_

_She was passionate, intelligent_

_Every boy wanted to run _

_Their fingers through her fiery hair_

_But she wanted none of it;_

_She wanted me_

_She's redheaded for trouble_

_She's pulling her hair _

_Fir a stupid boy_

_A stupid friend who_

_Wants nothing more_

_She's redheaded for trouble_

_Cause she wants me to be something I can't be_

_I love her, but not in love with her_

_I'm sorry it had to end _

_The way it ended_

_You were the best friend I could have_

_You've got brains, you've got looks_

_I'm a fool for not wanting more_

_I can't help it, I'm sorry;_

_You wanted me_

_But_

_She's redheaded for trouble_

_She's pulling her hair _

_For a stupid boy_

_A stupid friend who_

_Wants nothing more_

_She's redheaded for trouble_

_Cause she wants me to be something I can't be_

_I love her, but not in love with her [x2]_

_You wanted everything I couldn't give you_

_My heart belonged to someone else_

_She's redheaded for trouble_

_Cause she wants me to be something I can't be_

_I love her, but not in love with her [x2]_

_Oh-oh. _

I relaxed. It wasn't as bad as I thought; it wasn't mean or caustic, just blunt, exactly like Craig. It did bother me a bit, though, they he kept referencing his love for Manny. I knew he had dated her at the same time Ellie liked him, but he didn't need to throw it into El's face like that.

Ellie and I had never really talked about the song, or Craig's album; Craig was actually something of a taboo topic with is. She felt guilty for falling in love with him while I was away- but, honestly, I had made my own bed and had to lie in it. I knew he was attractive, charming, talented and single, and she was a gorgeous and gifted girl; I couldn't begrudge her falling for the same things I loved in him.

I made a mental note to call her to hang out soon. If I was airing out all of my Craig-related thoughts and emotions, I might as well clear all of the air between us too.

The seventh song clicked on, and I was surprised not to hear another electric guitar but Craig's acoustic. The song was soft and melancholy and his voice was breathy and hushed. This was the song that had reached number one- "I Still Miss You."

He sang:

_I can't talk about you, think about you_

_Dad never wants to hear your name again_

_But I can't stand the silence_

_I need to see your smile_

_Shining from the photograph_

_Hidden away in the dark_

_No one could replace you_

_No one can erase you_

_I lost you too young, with a heart far too young_

_Please try to hear me_

_I still miss you_

_I'll always miss you_

_Joey still loves you; you're in Angela's smile_

_His eyes always linger on your picture_

_But we never speak of you_

_Only feel grief for you_

_I need someone to tell me_

_That they'll always miss you too._

_No one could replace you_

_No one can erase you_

_I lost you too young, with a heart far too young_

_Please try to hear me_

_I still miss you_

_I'll always miss you, Mom _

_If you were alive, everything'd be fine_

_I still need you to tell me it's alright_

_I feel love, I feel anger_

_Only you could understand_

_I need you to tell me_

_That I'm a fine, good young man…_

_No one could replace you_

_No one can erase you_

_I lost you too young, with a heart far too young_

_Please try to hear me_

_I still miss you_

_I'll always miss you…Mom _

The tears really fell this time; this was the song that had gone to number one on the charts, this heartfelt, beautiful dedication to Julia, his mother he had lost to cancer a year before he started at Degrassi.

Craig and I had only talked about his mom once; but I never knew that he still missed her this badly. He was so, so good at conveying and projecting his emotions, and this song was more raw and more real than anything I had ever heard, from him or anyone else.

His music helped to alleviate his pain- his music was, truly, his rehab.

I wished I had known; I wished I could have helped him more, but before my own selfish guilt could kick in, the next song, like all the rest, began.

I knew this one so well, I could sing it in my sleep.

"Dust (What I Know)." This song was about me, written for me, and was an apology to me, as Spinner had been very quick to point out during grade eleven. This time, however, there was a new arrangement that was heavier on the keyboard and with less bass. I listened, smiling, because this was the suggestion that I had given Craig when he had wanted to record this song way back then.

The new arrangement did wonders for Craig's emotive voice, letting come out even more strongly than it had before. After it ended, I paused the CD, the need to think overpowering.

It felt so odd, hearing a song about me and knowing it was, but not actually being the subject anymore. It was still based on us, but Craig wasn't singing to me anymore.

That bothered me; I felt upset about it, sad.

I loved that song; it had set into motion my forgiveness, which led to our friendship, our band, and our rekindled relationship.

That song, back in grade ten, back during the rock contest, reminded me of how much he had meant to me, and how much I didn't want to lost him from my life, no matter how much he had hurt me.

But I had lost him when I went to London.

I lost the man who knew me best, who, despite out mutually inflicted pain, completed me and made me whole

I lost the man who urged and encouraged my creativity, who wrote songs and lyrics and performed with me. I lost my muse, my inspiration, my soul mate.

I lost the love of my life. I knew then that I still loved him, that I always had loved him.

That was why I had been so upset when he didn't credit me for my song. It meant he had forgotten me.

That was why I hadn't bought his CD when it first debuted I missed him too much, and I didn't want to hear what I had lost.

That was why I was sitting on my bed at four in the afternoon, crying over songs that obviously meant so much to him, ones he had put his entire self into. It was because it was like he was there next to me, talking to me, not far away in a life that was now untouchable, recording and surrounded by girls and fans and success and a world that I was no longer a part of.

I loved him.


	3. Realizing

**She's the Ash**

**Chapter 3: Realizing**

**----**

I sat for a while longer; the early spring sky as barely tinged with sunset orange when I snapped out of my trance. My mom had closed the door to the garage with some force and it had startled me.

"Ashley?" I heard her call up the stairs.

"Yea, Mom?"

"What are you doing?"

Homework, Mom, " I lied through my teeth. I had finished my homework that Sunday; I guess I still had some overachieving tendencies from my class president days.

"Okay. Dinner is in an hour and a half." I heard her footsteps go back to into the living room and the TV turn on. I guess he wouldn't be making dinner, but ordering takeout in about ninety minutes.

I grabbed the remote to my stereo system and turned down the volume before I pressed play. I knew what _this_ song was- this song was the entire reason I had bought the CD.

It was the song about me: "She's the Ash." Ash. Ashley. Me.

The song began very staccato – with short, edged notes – and it had an almost punk-jazz feel to it.

He sang:

_She's the kind of girl who burns you up_

_Her eyes are blazing (blazing)_

_Can set you on fire_

_Every day, shooting me higher and higher_

_But then I crash (crash)_

_Into the ground_

_Bursting into flame_

_Look at what she's done to me (oh)_

_She's the ash (whoa-oh-oh-oh)_

_I'm all ablaze, losing control_

_I don't recognize myself anymore_

_But when my fire burns out_

_She still remains_

_She's the ash._

_She's the kind of girl you want so bad_

_You're soul up in flames (flames)_

_Moaning and groaning_

_Wanted her, needing her, she just needs your love_

_But then I crash (crash) _

_Into the ground_

_Exploding in the night_

_Oh, why doesn't she understand?_

_She's the ash (whoa-oh-oh-oh)_

_I'm all ablaze, losing control_

_I don't recognize myself anymore_

_But when my fire burns out_

_She still remains_

_She's the ash._

_She's the ash (whoa-oh-oh-oh)_

_I'm all ablaze, losing control_

_I don't recognize myself anymore_

_But when my fire burns out_

_She still remains_

_She's the ash._

_She's all I know_

_She's the only one_

_She can't know_

_That I still love her_

_I've always loved her_

_No one else came close_

_She's the ash (whoa-oh-oh-oh)_

_I'm all ablaze, losing control_

_I don't recognize myself anymore_

_But when my fire burns out_

_She still remains_

_She's the ash._

_She's the Ash._

I couldn't help the grin on my face, or the golden glow in my chest. _He said he still loved me._ That was all that mattered in that moment; I forgot that this album had debuted months ago, that this song could have been written months before even then.

I just knew that the feelings I had for him had been reciprocated, and that out of the three girls he had written song about on the album, he declared that I was the one for him.

I couldn't help remembering all of the amazing little moments we had shared. I remembered rose petals, a journal, brown-haired wig torn off my head when I finally realized that he was on the same wavelength as I was, and that our brains worked in tandem. I remembered how it felt when he kissed me, when our lips met and connected in a way that was so much more intimate than any other way of communicating.

I remembered our first time together – my _first_ time – and how connected we were. He seemed to remember that in this song; he was reminding himself and me of how much we meant to each other, and revealed the fact that he still wanted to mean that much to each other.

I couldn't stop smiling- not until "My Window" began.

Hearing my music performed by Craig on his break out CD should have been amazing and awe-inspiring. Instead, I hear another girl's reedy, nasally voice singing backup where mine should have been. Instead, I heard Craig's voice singing a song he had chosen to not acknowledge as mine.

He had chosen to forget me.

I grudgingly had to admit that he had performed it well, with all the nuances I had pointed out to him; the son was his – I had written it for him – and it was perfect for him.

All of my elation washed out of me; he might have loved me once, but it was apparent that by the time this CD came out, he no longer did. The other girl's voice behind his own told me that much.

I got up out of bed to take the CD out, stretching my limbs and feeling the joints in my shoulders pop from sitting up against the pillows in the same position for so long. When I reached my stereo, though, I was surprised to find that the disc was still playing. 'My Window" should have been the last song on the track list, and the CD should have automatically stopped.

I was wondering how I could have broken my stereo in only an hour of usage, - and, of course, how I could convince Toby to fix it – when another hidden track clicked on.

There was no music, only talking- Craig's voice.

"Thank you, guys, for listening to this record. It means so much to me that you did. I know I wrote out 'thank yous,' but there one person who I never mentioned, because written words could never, ever thank her enough."

My heart stopped, absurdly hopeful now.

He stuttered on, his voice suddenly thick, "A-Ashley, no words can ever thank you enough for your song, for everything. You have always, always been everything to me. Please, if you heat this call- call me. I love you, still."

The track clicked off and the CD stopped.

I stared, amazed, at my stereo.

He had thanked me. He _cared_. He did still love me.

I was filled with that warm glow again, stronger now, my heart simultaneously light and full. My head was filled with Craig, his kisses, his smile, and his voice completing me in a way no other boy ever could.

But my smile began to falter a little; he had asked me to call him on a record that had come out months ago that I had stubbornly refused to buy, and when he never got that call, he may have given up on me.

He might have thought I had abandoned him. Again.

_Shit_._ I don't even know his number._

I realized – really realized – then, that I may have opened my heart to him too late. I had realized that I still loved him too late.


	4. Meeting

**She's the Ash**

**Chapter 4: Meeting**

**A/N:** Sorry for the delay in this chapter, but you know how the holidays get- busy. I've also been trying to pack- I'm spending a semester in London, just like Ashley, leaving behind my boyfriend who desperately doesn't want me to go, but wants me to be happy. So, this story has even more of a connection to me now. I hope that shines through. And, as always, THANK YOU for the reviews. I appreciate them so much!

**-----**

I had gone down to eat dinner a little while after my disheartening revelation. Mom had ordered Chinese food – Toby's and my favorite – but I was only picking at my crab ran goons, my head lost and my eyes downcast.

"Ashley, what's wrong?"

I ignored her and finally popped the friend noodle filled with cream cheese and synthetic crabmeat into my mouth.

"Did something happen with Jimmy? Wasn't he supposed to come over tonight?"

"We broke up," I said, flatly, unconcerned.

"What?!" My mom looked at me wide-eyed. She was so afraid of me freaking out when my relationships were shaky or ended; since I become horribly depressed, gone goth, and dashed to London at each relationship's end, I could certainly see why she'd expect such a reaction now.

I looked at her finally, my steady eyes locked with her panicked ones.

"Mom, I'm fine. Honest."

Her look didn't let up. Toby rolled his eyes; this had already gone through the Degrassi rumor mill, and all of the silly teens had their own theories as to why.

"Ashley, are you sure you're okay? I can call Dr. Richards-"

My therapist.

"No, Mom, I'm fine. We were about to break up; we've been having problems for months."

"You don't seem upset at all by it."

I shrugged, and picked up some lo mein with my chopsticks.

"I guess I never really cared as much as I thought I did this time around. I didn't love him, Mom. Not really."

She nodded, trying to understand. After a minute she just went back to her fried rice. As long as there was no sign of drugs or depression she'd let it go.

We had been eating in silence for a little while when I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket; the ringer went off, too, and The Hush Sound's "The Boys Are Too Refined" rang out through the kitchen.

I jumped and pull my phone out of my jeans, flipping it open as I got up out of my seat and walked out of the kitchen and into the foyer.

"Hello?"

"Is this Ashley Kerwin?"

"Yes."

'Congratulations! This is Anne from Columbia Records, and you're our winner of the Mano a Mano with Manning contest!"

I nearly dropped the phone.

"What?"

"You're our winner, Ms. Kerwin! You get to meet Craig Manning Saturday in Stouffville!"

I resisted the urge to squeal, but I couldn't keep the excitement from bubbling up into my voice when I gave my thanks.

Oh, my God. I was going to see Craig, sooner than I had ever anticipated.

Anne explained to me how there would be a tent outside of the Columbia Records store where the autograph signing would take place. I'd need to show my I.D. at the tent, and then I would wait until he was done signing autographs, then he'd come to the tent and I would meet him.

I hung up the phone, smiling widely and heart beating wildly, filled with confidence. I could tell him, in person, that I loved him.

Two days later, I was on the train to Stouffville, half-asleep in my seat and Craig's CD blasting through my iPod's earbuds. It was nine in the morning, and the ride would take an hour and a half. The signing started at eleven o'clock- an early morning for a rock star.

I could barely stand waiting for the past two days. I had planned, re-planned, and thought over everything I wanted to say to him so many times that I had psyched myself out.

But no planning was really necessary; there was no way that this moment could be rehearsed or practiced thousands of times to achieve perfection. It needed to be spontaneous and heartfelt. I had only three words that were really required of me. _I love you._

I had lied to my mom; I had told her that I would be spending the day at the library on a research project for Kwan. She still didn't like Craig, given that he was one of the reasons why I hadn't come back for my senior year of high school, "ruining my education", and I wasn't going to tell her that I was this desperate to see him. I needed to, so much.

"My Window" was blasting from my iPod now. His CD was all that I had listened to since that night. My revelation and feelings had swirled around my head continuously; it was all I could focus on. With each listen of the album, I felt my heart swell and grow, falling still more deeply in love with this artist, this man who, in every song, seemed to speaking – no, calling out – to me. I hoped the fangirls didn't feel the same way; I wanted those songs to be about us and mean something only to me, as selfish as it was and even if I didn't deserve it after all these months.

And at the same time, I was so worried that I wouldn't get the reception I fantasized of My hands were shaking and tingling from the fear that he'd hate me, thinking I had rejected him, or that he no longer loved me, crushing the heart that had only ever belonged to him and had just been too stupid and stubborn to admit it.

I needed him to love me still, and need me as much as I needed him. I needed to apologize for running away and being too much of a coward to even tell him myself, too scared of my emotions and of his illness to allow myself to rise above the ocean of feeling I had been drowning in. I hoped he would just listen.

The train arrived in the station on time, lurching to a halt that nearly sent me flying forward into the seat back in front of me. I got up from my own seat, careful to check for all of my stuff: my purse and the zip-up black hoodie that I had taken off, and my iPod.

The rain was very light when I exited the train. Anne had told me that the signing was about two blocks away from the train station on Elm Street. I put the hood of my hoodie over my head to prevent my hair from frizzing out, and I internally thanked God that I had chosen to forgo flare jeans that would drag along the wet ground. I wore skinny jeans and a pair of black Converse that I had unearthed from under a pile of high heels in my closet. I had washed the Ramones shirt and was wearing it again, determined to look like the Ashley he remembered, not the girl he saw at Ellie's graduation or at his gig with Taking Back Sunday.

The weather, despite the rain, was pretty mild. There weren't very many people around because of the drizzle, but that changed once I turned from Main Street onto the Elm. A line of people was stretched from the record store to the end of the block, and more giggling girls than I could count were approaching it, threatening to engorge the line and stretch back around the corner where I had come from

Between the blonde heads I caught a glimpse of the top of a pristine white tent and I began to push my way through the throngs of teen girls. I ignored the dirty looks and the short brunette who called out snottily, "Y'know, the line starts all the way back there" and after nearly running over a ten-year old girl wearing a shirt with Craig's face on it, I managed to make it to the tent.

A table was set up at the entrance, with a sign declaring it to be the meeting place for the "Mano a Mano with Manning" winner. I still found it so coincidental – so much so that I couldn't help but feel that it was destined – that I had won. Any other typical fan could have won, and he'd have been subjected to giggling and squealing and breathless adoration that I knew he wouldn't be able to stand. Instead, he was 'meeting' with a fan who once knew him intimately.

I was lucky to have this chance, and I refused to screw it up.

I approached the poor man who was sitting at the table, bleary-eyed and sucking down a coffee like it was the Elixir of Life. Apparently, eleven o'clock was early for _everyone_ in the music business.

"Hi," I half-yelled, attempting to be heard over the chattering

"Hello? Can I help you?" he replied, placing his Styrofoam cup down on the table.

"My name's Ashley Kerwin; I won the contest?"

"Oh! Right- can I se your I.D. please? I just have to make sure that it is actually you. We get a lot of people here trying to meet Craig without winning."

I nodded and showed him my Ontario driver's license. He smiled, then ushered me behind the table.

"Just go to the chairs in the back, Anne will be there to explain everything to you more fully. I'm Don, Craig's manager," he said, extending his hand.

I gave him confused look. I was wary; El had told me all about Craig's shady signing manager. "Not Leo?"

"No- Craig dumped Leo as soon as he checked into rehab." He then took his turn to give me a confused look. "How'd you know about Leo? Craig's fans normally don't know about his managers, or anything like that."

I shrugged "Just a really big fan."

He laughed. "Sure."

I made my way to the back of the tent.

There were two folding chairs set up another table, which had a couple of Craig's headshots on it along with a Sharpie, ready for him to sign. Anne was there, smiling a little too cheerily and holding two cups.

"Hello, Ashley!" She grinned while setting down the cups "Coffee?"

"Please", I smiled, setting my bag on the chair without the pictures in front of it. Anne handed me some creamer and sugar, then sat down in the unoccupied chair.

"So, there are a few things we need to go over," she began as she poured five creamers into the other cup, turning it from deep brown to tan .The only person I knew who liked their coffee that white was Craig. My eyes lit up; I really was going to meet him. I wasn't dreaming.

"Like what?"

"First, don't actually touch Craig. It may be a hard temptation to resist, but we can and will assume that you are attacking him."

I did my best to refrain from laughing. Yes, I would have to curb any desire to touch him, but not because of any fangirl tendencies. Rather, it would be hard to quell the urge to hug him, kiss him and never let go.

"Okay. Anything else?"

Anne nodded. "Don't ask him too many questions. He doesn't like to discuss his personal life. And _especially_ don't ask him about his love life." She winked at me. "It's a sore subject."

_Oh, I bet._

She glanced at her watch.

"It's about eleven now; Craig is going to sign CDs for about an hour, and then he'll be in to meet you! Do you need a magazine or some water while you wait? I've got a copy of American CosmoGirl!"

I shook my head.

"No, I brought a book with me, but thank you."

She looked at me for a second, as if she were trying to figure out whether or not I was joking.

"A book? Wow, you're pretty different from the other girls who normally win these things."

I laughed and she left the tent. _Oh, you have_ no_ idea. _

I made myself as comfortable as I could in my chair and pulled out my novel: Jane Eyre, by Charlotte Bronte. It was one of my favorite books, its story captivating even when I was only a grade eight and didn't actually understand what I was reading.

I loved how both Jane and Mr. Rochester needed to improve in order to finally be together. There were still fundamentally the same people, but how the world saw them and how they saw themselves was altered and changed for the better. They both had to suffer and overcome hardships in order to let their true love fully blossom.

Their story reminded me so much of Craig and myself, which is why the pages were dog-eared from so many readings. It had given me strength when Craig cheated on me- but I now knew that wasn't the hardship I was meant to endure and overcome.

I had read that book time after time in London, itself a backdrop to everything that happened while I was abroad, and even when I returned. Ali and Jimmy were both my St. John, the men who were absolutely wrong for me in every way. It took me rejecting them in turn to finally realize that I was still trying to fill the gap Craig had left.

No matter how much I had changed while in England, I still needed Craig. Jane Eyre had induced me to return to Canada. It had convinced me to come home. It had convinced me that wherever Craig was _was_ my home.

The hour passed while I read; Jane had just startled Mr. Rochester's horse when I heard a rush of disappointed sighs and the patter of hundreds of pairs of feet outside the tent. Just after the fangirls passed, I hear two male voices conversing – no, arguing – just outside the tent.

"Craig, c'mon, it's just one fan. I know you're tired after today, but-"

"No, Don, it's not just 'cause I'm tired. I'm just sick to death of these fawning fangirls, who giggle and bat their eyelashes and try to convince me that _they_ are the ones my songs are about. But they aren't, Don. Those songs could never, ever be about anyone but her."

Don sighed. "I know, I know. Your Ashley, who has yet to contact you. I know that all you want to do is go back to your hotel room and write more songs about her, hoping that she'll hear them one day and come back to you, Craig, but you can't. You have to keep pushing this album before the tour in Europe, and that includes meeting the fan in this tent. If it helps, she's pretty."

Craig took his turn to sigh. "It doesn't. But I'll do it. But this is it until we go to Europe. Got it?"

"Just one more. In Buffalo, in the States. Then, you're back up in Canada for the Purple Dragon concert, then we're off to Europe."

"Fine, fine, fine."

"Good. Now, just so it makes it easier for you to play nice, her name is Ashley, just like your mystery girl. Kerwin's her last name. Ashley Kerwin."

I heard a chocked gasp, and suddenly the flap to the tent was ripped open. It was raining harder now, and a dampened man stood in the entrance, staring at me. My Craig, his hair grown back into its wonderful, adorable curls and his eyes boring into my face, as if trying to make sure that I wasn't a mirage and that I wouldn't disappear. They were still a gorgeous dark brown, and still capable of captivating me entirely. His mouth was hanging open, his jaw moving only when he tried to speak, but he couldn't seem to find the words.

"Ash-Ashley?" he managed to force out of his throat.

I nodded, stupidly, rising up out of my chair as I stared back at him. I felt such a magnetic pull towards him, a desire that I couldn't keep in check for very long. I was desperate to be near him again, and I was desperate to know that he still felt what I did. I wanted to tell him I loved him, I wanted to tell him so many things, but, like him, there weren't any words or even any coherent thoughts in my head.

Finally, I was able to speak just one word, a word filled with the feelings of the past but also with hope for the future, a word that defined this reconnection, this _meeting_, with him.

"Hello."


	5. Completing

**She's the Ash**

**Chapter 5: Completing**

**---------**

Minutes passed, and we were still staring. The look of shock had not left Craig's face, even though his jaw had finally closed. My own lips were still parted from my greeting, and my mind was blank save for one thought – three little words – that kept swirling round and round my brain.

Eventually, though, one of us would have to break the silence. The sound of a car horn shook him out of his daze a few moments later and he took a step forward, his look softening from one of shock into one of wonder.

"What are you doing here?" he asked softly.

"I won the contest," I reminded him, my voice just as soft as his. And idea occurred to me; I pulled his CD out of my purse.

"Would you sign it?"

He blinked. "Why would you want my autograph?"

I didn't know how to answer his question. How was I supposed to tell him that I wanted a physical piece of him to keep forever, when he was out on tour and meeting girls and doing everything I couldn't while I was at NYU? How was I supposed to tell him that I needed to see his messy handwriting printing my name, writing that he loved me with permanent ink?

I wouldn't believe that he loved me until he said it with just that degree of permanence, and he wouldn't understand that.

I cleared my throat, and said the first thing that popped into my head.

"Isn't that what a fan should ask?"

His eyes narrowed.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Of course. What was I expecting?" he muttered crossly under his breath. He went to sit.

"Wait," I said, stopping him with a motion of my hand. "What was _that_?"

He looked at me, a look of faux innocence on his face.

"Oh, nothing, Ashley. You just came because you won a contest, because you wanted some memorabilia from a singer who means _nothing_ to you."

My heart sank; this is not was I had fantasized about at all. He was completely misunderstanding me, and I needed to explain myself.

"No, Craig, that isn't it at all! I-"

"Did you even listen to the album, Ashley?" he interrupted, the words spat as they burst from his mouth.

On his face was a look so raw that it cut me to the core, my heart flailing as I finally understood just how much I had hurt him when I had left for London. The album was his catharsis, his release of all that pain, and the idea of me not even understanding his soul's cries and pain was devastating. His eyes were wide and glassy, the creases around his eyes expressing the pain he had managed to hide for _years_ quite eloquently.

I almost tried to rationalize; I almost allowed myself to quibble and ramble, my overly cautious way of acting around him bubbling close to the surface. I almost let myself treat him like a patient, or a child, no like the man I loved.

Almost.

But I threw caution to the wind, if only for a moment, and finally spoke to him like I felt about him: like I adored him.

"Yes, Craig, I did- and I thought it was brilliant, the best music I've heard in years. It couldn't have showcased your talents more. I love it."

I placed extra emphasis on the 'loved' and his eyes widened slightly. I guess that he was disappointed that I hadn't called him, that I hadn't leapt into his arms when he entered the tent, and that I hadn't told him that I loved him too. He was such an enigma to me now; I didn't trust myself to know what was going on inside of his head, even though my intuition was telling me to just go over and hug him. I couldn't do it. I couldn't bring myself to face any disappointment. I knew he needed to hear it, but I found that I couldn't say what I needed o say, no matter how many times I had repeated 'I love you' in my mind.

I had always been able to tell him anything0 except when it involved him and I.

"You loved it," he parroted, his expression now stony. "Anything in particular that stuck out?"

I nodded slowly. He trying to get me to give him the answers he wanted, and I couldn't continue to avoid giving them to him.

"She's the Ash," I whispered.

He nodded in turn, still expecting something more. I internally prodded myself, my heart now ignoring the admonishments of caution from my head.

"And your 'thank you'"

He froze, his eyes now looking at his shoes, still waiting for what I assumed he wanted to hear. _He poured his entire heart into that album, and I will _not_ break it again._

I coughed, coaxing his eyes to look back up into mine I set my shoulders and mentally prepared myself for the rejection or denial that I was sure to follow. Even after seeing his face and hearing what Don said, even after assuming that this was what he wanted to hear, I still was utterly convinced that I deserved – and would received – none of this wonderful, talented man's love. But I couldn't wait to tell him any longer.

"I love you too."

His face relaxed, the stony expression on his face eased into an almost smile, but his eyes remained wary.

"What?" he asked, as if not sure of what he had heard.

"I love you. I still love you, always have loved you. I couldn't stand to be away from you, and no one else could ever replace you."

The words poured out of my mouth as my heart finally managed to wrest complete control; the flowed like a river, the current of phrases and words unstoppable now that it had been undimmed.

"I absolutely understand if you don't feel that way anymore; it's been months since 'Of Two Minds" came out and I never listened until now, too stubborn to listen and acknowledge that I was being stupid. I only bought the CD two days ago and I won the contest, and I knew that I had to come, no matter if you loved me still or not. I needed to know, for sure."

The look on his face was now unreadable, and not filled with the happiness and love I had wanted to see. Instead, I knew what that face meant: the rejection I had expected.

_I was right. He _doesn't._ I'm just…song fodder now. I'm nothing, just like Manny and Ellie._

"Oh," I gasped, a heavy weight settling on to my chest. Oh, right."

Tears pricked at my eyes and I felt my lower lip tremble as I dropped my gaze to my feet. The CD fell from my limp grasp and hit the floor. The sound caused my body to go into autopilot; my mind still reeling, trying to grasp the fact that my own stupidity had made me too late. I was flying apart at the seams, and while my body gathered my belongings while Craig looked on, I was desperately trying to hold myself together.

"Right," I said again, mumbling and numb, my breathing coming in little gasps that I hoped weren't audible. I was trying to hurry; I would be hyperventilating soon, and I didn't want to embarrass myself further. "I'll just- I guess- um, it was nice seeing you again, Craig. Good luck … with everything."

I refused to look as him as I strode as fast as I could out of the tent, but I couldn't resist one look back at him, telling myself that it was only because I wanted to be polite and say goodbye. He was still standing there, immobilized, and still giving me that unreadable look.

"Bye, I choked out, and I left the tent.

The tears started falling then and I broke into a run. _Just go, Ashley. Get away._

After a few minutes, I found myself at the train station, chest heaving and mind racing. I didn't know when the next train was; I hadn't planned on taking anything before two o'clock, stupid as I was. Still, my mind couldn't focus on even my current predicament. What was I going to do? I couldn't go to New York City now and find some other guy; I couldn't pretend to be okay without him.

My heart was breaking into thousand of tiny pieces as I stood in that train station, trying to create an image of my future without Craig. I was tired of pretending, but-

"Ashley!" yelled a breathless voice, a voice too familiar. It couldn't be him.

I ignored whoever was calling and looked up at the schedule on the wall, trying o find the next train home, but a hand on my shoulder stopped me.

I felt a tingle run to my hands, and my skin felt as it if was on fire, the flames licking body with a warmth that both soothed and excited me, giving me a strange and beautiful dichotomy of sensations that was irresistible and addictive. I turned to look at the owner of that hand – the only man who could _ever_ make me feel that way – who was looking at me with a mixture of concern and happiness.

"Ashley," breathed Craig, his eyes following the tears that were still running down my cheeks. "Ashley, why'd you run away?"

I shrugged as I composed myself, gathering my dignity about me.

"You know the answer to that, Craig."

He looked confused.

"Why would I be asking if I already know?" Still, he was jovial, even happy.

I felt myself bristle; first, I was too late and now he wanted to tease me about it. Ellie's tale of his manipulation of her feelings for him echoed in my head as I erupted, my shame and embarrassment fueling the fire.

"What, Craig? You want me to say that too, just so you can hear it _again_, after I already embarrassed myself? Fine, Craig, I'll tell you. I ran because I traveled all this way and had all this hope, but I was too late. Everything you said doesn't matter, because I was too late and you don't love me anymore. I'm not your inspiration, and I made the biggest mistake of my life by running to England and now I don't have any choice but to run again."

I blinked; the tears had stopped, but I was shaking. I shook y head, trying to clear it, and in doing so couldn't stop the whimper that escaped my lips.

He moved so fast that I didn't have time to react his arms wrapped around me and pulled me flush against him. My head rested in the crook of his neck, and I was able to smell his cologne, an intoxicating mix of musk and pine that left me muddled. _Why do I want him so much?_

One of his hands moved from the middle of my back and wrapped it in my hair.

"It's so long," he whispered.

It was my turn to be confused; what the hell was he doing? I had just yelled at him, and his response was to pull me into a hug.

"Craig," I began, but he shushed me before I could tear into him.

"Sh, please, just for a minute so I can explain." He pulled back now, creating about a foot of space in between us, and tried to look me in the eye. "Do you promise not to run away again?"

I nodded, my eyes once again on my shoes, still very much embarrassed and my anger slowly draining

"Look at me, Ashley."

I pulled my head up slowly, and as I did he moved his hands up to my shoulders. His gaze never wavered from my face, and he smiled at me as my eyes locked with his.

"Don't look so sad, Ash."

I gave him an incredulous look, and he threw back his head and laughed. What the…

_Is he off his meds?_

"Oh, that's my Ashley. That's a look I've missed, the 'Craig's crazy' look that only you are allowed to give me."

As he stopped laughing, he noticed that I was still very much confused. Why had he followed me; why was he not embarrassed by me and my proclamation of unrequited love? And why was he laughing with me like this?

His look softened. "You don't understand, do you?"

I only dared to shake my head as I felt involuntary tears prick at my eyes again. _Why is he torturing me?_

"Oh, Ashley," he murmured, pulling me to him again. "Don't you get it?"

And, an instant later, he had pulled me into a kiss. My entire body felt once again as if it were on fire. I was warm and felt as if I was glowing. I heard a song in the back of my head, its melody beautiful and perfectly matched with the beating of my heart. This is what kissing Craig always felt like; this is what it was missing.

He completed me the music alone confirmed that.

But he pulled away before the kiss could deepen.

"Don't you _dare_ tell me that I don't still love you," he warned, his eyes twinkling. "You have always, always, always been everything to me, and not answering for a few months could never compare to you leaving me for England. I loved you through that; I loved you through this."

Finally, I smiled at him, looking up at him through my lashes. I had never felt so happy, and had never felt so wanted in my life.

"Really?"

He kissed my forehead. "Really."

He tugged at a lock of my hair, winding it between his fingers again.

" I still can't believe you're here."

"And I'm yours," I added, entwining my fingers with those of his free hand. "That is, if you want that."

"Are you kidding? I want it more than anything; what do you think I wrote 'She's the Ash' for? I wanted you back." He paused. "But what bout Jimmy."

I shrugged. "We broke up 3 days ago."

"Wait. Am I just some rebound, then?" he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly. He opened his mouth to continue, obviously hurt, but I cut him off.

"No, no, no- never, Craig"

And I explained everything: how Jimmy and I had gotten together, with me feeling sorry for him and realizing that Craig was dating Manny again; how Jimmy and I had never really clicked; how Craig's album debuting had sparked my own inspiration and songwriting; how deleting Jimmy's track off of my song made me feel like I had finally stepped out of his and Jimmy's shadows; and how Jimmy had called me his crutch. We sat in that train station and talked for two hours, with only a few people departing or arriving.

We talked about London, Manny, Ellie, and Ali; he told me how he felt when I left, and I talked about how coming back to find him gone and off with Manny felt.

He kept touching me in small ways as we sat on the hard plastic chairs; he would brush the hair from my eyes, marveling still at its length ('Oh, do you want me to cut it?" I had asked, and he had emphatically shook his head 'no': "It makes you look even prettier than I remembered."), or rubbing my arm, or stroking my hand with his thumb.

"I want to make sure you're real, and that I am not going to wake up in a few minutes feeling horribly disappointed," he'd explained when I asked why. I'd kissed him hard for that, and laughed as I proceeded to playfully pinch him.

"Okay, I'm not dreaming. Ow," he responded while ruefully rubbing his arm.

Around two o'clock, we heard a panicked voice yelling; soon after, Don had run into the train station, calling for his client.

Craig let go of one of my hands – he had been holding them both – and called down to Don. He came jogging up, an annoyed expression on his face.

"Manning! What the hell, dude- where were you? And _why_ weren't you answering your damn cell phone?"

Craig sheepishly took his cell phone out of his pocket. "Silent," he replied, sheepishly.

Don rolled his eyes.

"Anne and I have only been searching for you all over this empty town for the past two hours; is this where you've been the _whole_ time since you ran off?"

Craig nodded, a grin now spreading across his face as he grasped my other hand again. Don looked down at our hands, and his eyes widened.

"Craig- and, who- what?"

Craig stood, and I followed.

"Don, this is Ashley Kerwin."

"yea, I know who she is, she won the con- wait a minute. Ashley- _this_ is your Ashley? She found you?"

Craig, if possible, grinned wider and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. "Yep, she found me."

"Oh, thank God," Don sighed, and he took my now free hand from Craig's, shaking it vigorously. "I'm so happy to meet you; now Craig can write emo songs about something else."

I laughed, Craig blushed, and I felt complete. Life was finally right; it was finally perfect.


	6. Emailing

**She's the Ash**

**Chapter 6: Emailing**

**A/N:** Thanks so much for the reviews! I'm glad that people are reading and enjoying this story; it makes writing the next chapter that much more enjoyable. There are at least 3 more chapters after this one, including an epilogue, so don't tune out yet! Once again, thank you!

Also… think of this as filler.

**-------**

Tuesday, 5:00 PM

Ashley-

I can't believe it's only been two weeks since I saw you. It feels like it's been forever I miss you so much.

I love reading your emails every day. They're what tide me over until I get to see you again.

Speaking of that, I ran an idea by Don the other day. I perform at Smithdale University in a little less than a week at the Purple Dragon mystery concert with Funkasaurus Rex before I go on tour in Europe. Don was going over my set list, and my first song is going to be "My Window"- but it isn't the complete without you.

So, if you're up for it, I'd like to ask you if you'll sing it on stage with me. Smithdale is also where I'll introduce you as my partner. I want you on stage with me, performing with me. It only feels right with you next to me.

These past few weeks without you – and knowing that I have you – have made me realize that being in Europe for four months without seeing you will kill me.

Come on tour with me. There's no one I'd rather make music with.

I love you.

XOXO,

Craig

. . . .

Tuesday, 6:30 PM

Craig-

Absolutely. Yes, yes, YES.

I'd love nothing more than to sing with you again, at Smithdale, and anywhere else you drag me to.

I just need to break the news to Momzilla.

I miss you too. It sucks that you can't call- damn international calling rates, even to somewhere as close as the U.S.! Mom still isn't happy that I asked to be able to call you and pay over a dollar per minute to talk to you. She's going to freak about Europe and NYU, but I am so, so done with pretending that I can do anything else but be with you.

Gotta go, dinner's ready. Wish me luck.

Love, love, love,

Ash.

. . . .

Tuesday, 11:45 PM

Ash-

PLEASE tell me that she said yes. The waiting is KILLING me; I can't think of anything else.

I'm attaching some pictures from the States (this Blackberry is amazing, so I can do that); there's a bunch I took at Niagra Falls that you need to see in person. I'm so taking you there- or we'll go for our honeymoon. You'll love it; I can just hear the songs you'd write from the inspiration.

Email me back soon, baby.

Love you,

Craig

. . . .

Wednesday, 9:00 AM

Craig-

I'm sorry it took so long to get back to you. Mom and I had a long, long talk after dinner.

She wants me to finish my education and she's concerned about the fact that I won't hav ea high school diploma, let alone a degree from NYU. But she finally understood that I am an adult and can make my own decisions.

She wants me to follow my dreams, but she now wants me to handle them and myself as an adult. So here's what's happening: she and Jeff will not take me to Smithdale to meet you. I need to find my own way there with all of the stuff I am taking as an adult. Whatever belongings I do not take with me, they will put in storage, which I then have to pay for.

I played the adult card, now I have to be an adult. But that's all fine by me; I'll work wherever and whenever I can find a job so I can be with you.

Can't wait to see you. XOXO

Love,

Ash

P.S. Honeymoon, huh?

. . . .

Wednesday, 12:00 PM

Ash-

Don't you know by now that I am never, ever letting you go again? You and I are meant to be together forever, and to quote our marvelous rendition of The Taming of the Shrew:

"I must and will have _Ashley_ for my wife." (Said in a non-abusive and light-hearted way, of course).

And, may I now respond to the most amazing news I've heard since Don told me it was you in the contest winner's tent: YES. YES YES YES. AAAAAAAH!!!

You have no idea how happy you've made me' I can barely sit still in my bus seat, and it's driving Don absolutely crazy.

Please don't worry about not finishing high school. We will always have work; with you and I together, and you keeping me on the straight and narrow, with only music and you to focus on, we will be amazing. We'll sell out concerts, go on tour, and sell billions of albums. I know it.

Also, don't worry about your things- I'll pay any storage fee that come up before we have it moved to my our apartment in Vancouver. I know this seems fast, but it feels right. We have so much history, and so much time apart to replace.

I see you on Sunday- I cannot wait.

Gotta go now, though. XOXO.

Love,

Craig

P.S. Pack light, baby. And I know light for you is about seven bags, but anything you need, we'll buy in Europe. Lord knows I have the money

P.P.S Don't forget to find a ride!

P.P.P.S. Don is banning me from my phone until Friday. Damned promo tours. I love you; I'll text you in the morning to let you know what's up!


	7. Packing

**She's the Ash**

**Chapter 7: Packing**

**A/N:** Hello all! Sorry for the delay, but this chappie was giving me some trouble. I do use some dialogue from 'Bust a Move' in this chapter and the next few, but I have tweaked things so that there is more coherence between canon and what I believed happened with Ashley. Thanks for reading!

**-------**

It was Thursday morning, and I was pissed. I still had no ride to Smithdale, and my options were dwindling as each minute passed. Not even the thought of this being my last day at Degrassi could bring me out of my funk

I suppose I should have felt more upset about the fact that this was my last seven hours walking the halls of this high school. This, if nothing else, was where I had met Craig; it would always hold a special place in my heart.

But, right now, I needed to be where Craig Manning was, not stuck in classes that now meant nothing to me. That was home to me.

My first class of the day was Media Immersion. I had gotten there early with the intention of tell the substitute that she could scratch my name off of the roster, but she was nowhere to be found.

I had already Mrs. Hatzilakos that I was leaving. She was sad to see me go, especially since I had just reenrolled in September, but there was nothing she could say or do. She smiled, shook my hand, and wished me luck, then went back to her papers; as I left her office I had to duck into a classroom to avoid Spinner and Jimmy. They were laughing about Spinner's piece of crap car.

I hadn't spoken to Jimmy since we had broken up, and I had no desire to tell him where I was going. He'd go to NYU and I wouldn't be there.

The problem was, aside from Spinner and Jimmy, was that I had no other real friends at this school; all of mine were actually in university already. Yes, true, I was still sort of friends with Emma back from our Environmental Club days, but she was much more into hanging around with the girls she always had, namely many. . I suppose that made today, with its lack of goodbyes, a whole lot easier.

I was sitting at my computer busily typing away to Ellie to ask if we could hang out tonight. I was nervous about telling her I was leaving again, and for what reason, but it had to be done.

It was five minutes before the bell was supposed to ring when Manny and Emma walked in. There were in the middle of a conversation and I couldn't help but eavesdrop in the middle of it.

"I can't wait to see the theater," many was exclaiming, the excitement in her voice lighting up her face. I wondered for a moment what theater she was talking about, before remembering that she desperately wanted to get into Smithdale's Theatre department. _When is she going to see it?_

Emma had followed her to her seat.

"And I need a vacay," the blonde replied. "Things are tense at the Simpson-nelson place with my dad home all day." She lowered her voice to a low murmur, so only those really, really listening could catch it. "Thank God we're leaving tomorrow."

My head jerked up. They were leaving in time for me to get to Craig. This was my chance – perhaps my _only_ one – to get a ride.

Liberty walked over to her seat at that moment from the other side of the room where she had been arguing with Damien, presumably over something Student Council related, and entered the conversation.

"I have a fried who's Psi Alpha Zeta. I'm sure she'd let you guys stay." She sat down and smirked at her friends. "Should be a _wild_ time."

There was a slight lull and I jumped into the conversation myself.

"There room for one more?" I questioned, eyebrows raised in a look of innocence. I was going to avoid telling them _why_ I was actually going, what with one of Craig's exes right there; that would definitely prevent my going along. Hopefully they wouldn't ask.

Toby piped up next; he and I sat together in class, but he'd been staying with his grandmother all week; she was sick and refused to go to a nursing home, and whenever she wasn't feeling well she requested that Toby stay with her. He had therefore missed the discussion between our parents and me the night before, and knew nothing about Smithdale or Europe or even that I wasn't coming back.

"You're bailing on Florida?" he asked, surprised. "Who's gonna ride the mineshaft with me?"

He looked a little hurt; he and I had gotten closer since I had returned, and it was nice to have him as a friend. We were the only one the other really had anymore. His hurt look deepened at what Liberty said next.

"Are you even tall enough for that?" she asked, giving him a snide, bitchy look. I internally bristled. Damn it, I would have to _ride_ with the egomaniac if this worked out.

Toby's head lowered and I gave him a reassuring smile. 'I'll explain later,' I mouthed, then said out loud, "There was a change of plans."

I turned to my classmates again. "So, what do you think? I'll pitch in for gas."

Manny nodded 'yes', then looked contemplative. "We can all cram into my car."

"That's if you get it." Emma has a disbelieving smile on her face. They continued to discuss the possibility of Manny actually getting to drive to Smithdale even after the bell had rung.

I tuned them out after Emma told me she'd call me later with the definite details. I smiled at her and went back to my computer screen, absentmindedly booking a moving company to pick up my things later that night.

As the day wore on, my excitement grew until it was barely containable. I had a ride, I had a plan, and I was seeing the love of my life in just two days. I couldn't sit still or focus, and a grin was still plastered onto my cheeks at the end of the day.

After the last bell rang, I nearly skipped to Toby's car in the parking lot. He normally took my home, and today was no exception. I climbed into the passenger seat and placed my bag on my lap.

My stepbrother's expression was just as dour as he carefully pulled out pf the parking lot. The radio was blasting some Top 40 pop hit, and he made a right instead of his usual left.

"Um, Tobes? You're going the wrong way."

His eyes never left the road.

"We only have ten minutes between home and Degrassi. We need more time than that to talk."

_Oh, boy._

We eventually pulled through the drive-through of our favorite smoothie place – he with Banana Mango and me with Berry Blast, his treat – and he pulled into a parking space, the music still playing in the background.

"So," he began, putting the car into park. "Why aren't you coming with us to Florida?"

And, just as coincidence and my luck would have it, the previous song ended and the DJ began speaking.

"School's out for Spring Break, Toronto! And here to rock you into the craziest week of the school year is the latest single from our hometown boy Craig manning- 'She's the Ash'!"

My face could have easily fried an egg in that moment; I was bright red from both embarrassment and pleasure and Toby couldn't fail to notice.

"Why are you so red, Ashley?" _Typical blunt Toby._

"Um," I cleared my throat. "Listen to the song, Toby."

His eyes gradually widened as the song played on. "It's about you, isn't it?"

I nodded. "And that's why I'm not going to Florida."

I explained everything: what Kate and Jeff had said, what happened between me and Craig a week ago, where I was going, and exactly why I was going to date Craig Manning a third time. Eventually I stopped talking and he just looked at me.

There was a silence for a minute. Then he pulled me into a hug, which floored me because, one, he's Toby, and two we've never really acted like siblings- just friends. He let me go and made eye contact with me again.

"I'm going to miss you."

His face was serious and I felt a rush of sisterly affection for my stepbrother.

"I'm going to miss you too, Toby."

He smiled. "But I'm okay with it, because I know you'll be happy."

I gave him a grin and he returned it. He then put the car in reverse and pulled out of the space, speaking to me as he did so, the grin still on his face.

"So, you're basically _never_ going to graduate, are you?"

I punched him in the shoulder as we headed to the house.

Later that evening I was sitting at the kitchen table. Everything I owned was sitting in boxes in the foyer, waiting for the man from storage space to come with his van to take it away, save for two suitcases and my purse Those were sitting in the corner of the living room, which was where I had chosen to sleep tonight. My room was no longer mine; it was Mom and Jeff's guest room now. My pillow and old stuffed rabbit were on the couch along with my blanket, ready for me to curl up in.

The phone had rung multiple times earlier. Emma had first called to let me know that we were all leaving around 9:30 tomorrow morning, and that we would all be meeting at Manny's house. She had given me the address, expressed her excitement about the trip, and then hung up.

The second time it had been Craig; he had finally gotten his phone back. I was able to tell him that I had found a ride and he was overjoyed. We didn't get long to talk, though, and he hung up assuring me that he loved me like none other and that he couldn't wait to see me on Saturday.

The third call had come from Ellie. She couldn't get dinner tonight, but she had expressed an interest in getting coffee before her class the next morning. We set up plans to meet at 8:30, and when I hung up the phone I realized that I had the entire evening to myself to do nothing.

When my mother walked in an hour later, I was sitting at the table and writing; inspiration had taken hold and I didn't here her enter.

"Ashley?"

I acknowledged her with a nod of my head; my concentration was broken now. I stared at the fridge she had opened It was six-thirty, our usual dinnertime, and my stomach was growling audibly.

"Are you hungry?"

I put down my pen. "Yea. I was going to go get a sandwich after I finished writing."

I stood and reached for my hoodie and purse, but she stopped me/

"You're not eating your last meal at home with us?"

"Mom, this isn't my house anymore; you and Jeff made that clear, and I understand. I don't want to use your food or be in the way anymore than I have to."

Her eyes widened. "Sweetie, I-"

"Mom, I know that you're upset with me for leaving again, for starting all of this up again."

"No, Ashley," she stopped me. "I'm not upset with you. I want you to be happy; I may not agree with this decision, but I'm not trying to disown you. Yes, you're an adult now, but you're still my baby girl and you'll always be welcome here."

I smiled at her for the first time since I had announced I was leaving.

"Thank you, Mom."

She walked over and pulled me into a hug, then stepped back.

"Come on- we're going out to dinner, and you're coming with us."

"What about my boxes? The mover will be here-"

\The doorbell rand, and my mom and I laughed.

"He shouldn't take more than an hour. We'll leave when he's done."

I agreed and walked into the foyer to start filling out paperwork, my mom watching me sadly, but proudly.


	8. Arriving

**She's the Ash**

**Chapter 8: Arriving**

**A/N:** Again, sorry for the lack of promptness with updates. Hopefully this chapter doesn't stink up the joint too much.

-----

The next morning found my suitcase and me at the Dot waiting for Ellie. I had been dropped off on my family's way to the airport; my mom had been teary-eyed, and we had hugged for a long time. I promised I would write to her and email her every other day. I had waited on the curb and watched the car until it disappeared, then lugged my bags inside. Thankfully, Manny lived only a few blocks away and I wouldn't have to drag them far after coffee.

I was about to pop in my headphones when the bell on the door chimed and my best friend walked in. She was dressed in her usual black and yawned widely.

"Hey, Ash," she greeted as she sat down next to me at the counter. She ordered a black coffee and wiped her eyes. "What's up?"

I sipped my latte and gestured to my bags.

"Oh," she smiled. "Spring Break. Nice- I don't get mine for another week. Where are you going?"

"I'm not going on Spring Break, El."

"Oh." She looked confused. "Then why- oh no. Ash, don't tell me you're leaving _again_. Is it because of Jimmy? Are you going back to England? Are-"

I stopped her barrage of questions by putting my hand up.

"Hold up there, Ellie. I'm leaving, but not because of Jimmy." I took a deep breath and looked at her. "Last week, I saw Craig."

"Oh?" Her eyes narrowed. She still hadn't forgiven him for tricking her. "What about him? Did he have anymore songs about ex-girlfriends to share?"

I shook my head. "No- he just told me he loved me."

"Don't believe it, Ash," she snorted. Her coffee arrived and she began to drink it.

"I do believe him."

"Why? He stole your song! And then he made up some bullshit at the end of the CD to try and convince you not to sue him. But that still doesn't explain why you have suitcases, and what Manning had to do with any of-"

She stopped talking and glared. "You're leaving to be with him, aren't you?"

My eyes flicked downwards. It was going exactly how I expected it to, but I needed to make her understand. I didn't want to leave with her furious with me.

"He asked me to go on tour with him in Europe."

"And you're back together with him?"

I nodded and opened my mouth, but she wasn't finished.

"After what he did to me? After what he stole your song? After he did drugs, after rehab, after his mood swings chased you away? After all of this, you still want to be with him? You're willing to give up high school and NYU for this guy?"

I nodded again. "I am, Ellie. He's the only one for me, and for once I need to run towards him, not away."

Her glare softened, and she smiled a little.

"You two really are meant to be together. You're both hopeless, romantic idiots."

She laughed a little, bitterly.

"Ellie, I know how much he hurt you. I wont' try to make excuses for him, but I know he's really, truly sorry. You were his best friend, and he'd give anything to have you back." I touched her arm, and she looked at me.

"It's going to take more time, Ash. But I'll forgive him. For you."

She then pulled me into a hug. "I'm going to miss you!"

I hugged her back. "I'm going to miss you too, El."

"Promise you'll email?"

"Absolutely. Every day, if you want."

"Good. And I better be the first to know when you're back in Toronto and playing."

"You, Marco and Paige will get the VIP treatment," I grinned.

"Freakin' better," she grinned back, then checked her cell phone's clock. "Crap, I have class in fifteen minutes, and I need to walk back to campus."

I nodded and stood; she did the same, giving me another hug and wished me a safe trip, leaving quickly afterward before she started to cry. Goodbyes, I knew, were hard for her, especially after Sean left, and I knew that this one would hurt her.

I sat back and drained my mug, then ordered another along with toast. It was nine o'clock, but I didn't have to leave for another twenty minutes and I was looking forward to some solitude.

After I finished, I threw my purse over my shoulder and grabbed my suitcases. I threw a ten-dollar bill on the counter and began dragging my suitcases down the street to Manny's. There were fairly heavy, and this was eloquently articulated by Jay as he attempted to lift my second bag into the trunk of Manny's car.

"Ungh," he labored, his face turning red.

"Jeez, Ashley, what do you have in there, your issues?" snipped Manny, her voice mocking. The tension between her and her supposed fiancé was palpable and bleeding over in all her other exchanges.

I rolled my eyes at her. "You'll never know what you'll need on the road."

I them climbed into the middle of the backseat next to Emma, who gave me an apologetic smile. I shrugged and smiled back. There _were_ pretty heavy, but I _was_ going to Europe until the end of the summer. I had some shoes (not all, this time), all of my old band tees and my more 'rock star' clothes, my laptop, my photo albums, my songbooks, my favorite books, and my jewelry. I was very lucky even to fit it all into two bags.

While I was musing, Manny and Jay had gotten into the car; he was mocking her, and she was getting angrier and angrier.

"You're not coming," she finally said, refusing to look at him any longer.

The three of us in the back kept our eyes down and our voices silent as they broke up right in front of us. He tossed her demo at her and stormed away, and Liberty – in her typical socially inept way – asked to sit shotgun, which Emma gave her a look for. Manny sighed, and we were on our way to Smithdale.

After a few hours, Emma had gotten into the passenger seat. Liberty was reading a book, and I was listening to my iPod to drown out the inane pop music from the radio, song ideas pouring from my pen into my journal.

I hadn't felt this inspired – or this happy – since before I went to London.

My flow, though, was interrupted when Manny's cell phone rang.

She turned off the radio, exclaiming, "Ugh! It's probably my parents."

"Pit stop!" Emma smiled. We parked along the side of the highway near the forest, and Emma and I dragged the cooler out of the trunk while Liberty watched and Manny talked with her mother, once again getting irritated.

I pulled a soda out of the cooler and lowered my sunglasses.

"So, you guys are all planning on going to Smithdale?"

Liberty sniffed and opened her can. "It's one of my many options; my mom's old sorority wants me," she replied, her voice pompous and her look smug. _God, this girl is irritating._

Emma piped up. "I'm thinking about it. But this trip? Anything tog et out of the hose since Snake's been home from work." She paused to take a sip of her soda. "You?"

I flushed a bit. "Actually, I cored tickets to the Purple Dragon Mystery Concert."

"How'd you get the tix?" Emma asked.

"Um…" I flushed more, my face going an even deeper shade of red, and continued vaguely, "I have a connection. I could probably get you guys tix."

"Sounds wild," Liberty responded as I finally opened my own soda.

Manny stomped over then, and when Emma asked what her mother had said, she mentioned Jay angrily. She sent her next call to voicemail and muttered some rather hostile things under her breath.

_God, we can't get to Smithdale fast enough._

When we finally arrived, a friend of Liberty's who was in the sorority greeted us. They all were talking as I opened the trunk and lifted my bags out.

As I threw the second on top of the first, I interrupted their conversation.

"So, uh, see you at the concert?"

Manny gave me a shocked look. "What, you're not staying here?"

I couldn't resist giving her a knowing look. "I've got a place to stay."

Remembering Craig's text he had sent only an hour earlier, I gave them all a smile and walked away, making my way towards the tour bus I had seen parked behind one of the Smithdale buildings when we drove in.

It only took me ten minutes to backtrack and I found the non-descript bus with ease. As I approached it, a familiar figure greeted me.

"Ms. Kerwin!" Don called, turning and waving. The bulky roadie he had been talking to turned and walked away, presumably to complete some instruction given to him.

"Hey, Don," I greeted, stopping in front of him and placing my purse on top of the suitcase "Is Craig around?"

He grinned. "Oh, so you didn't come to see me?"

I rolled my eyes and he laughed. "Kidding! He's sleeping on the bus; he was up really late writing."

"Thanks." I smiled. "Can I go on?"

He nodded, and then grabbed my suitcase as I grabbed my purse. "Sure; I'll put this with all the other luggage."

I thanked him and stepped onto the bus. Light snores guided me to the back, where I found Craig under a blanket on his bunk, his songbook lying across his chest. His hair was wonderfully messy and his mouth was partly open.

I set my purse down as lightly as I could, and then sat down on the little space on the bunk. I held his hand in mine and leaned down, planting a kiss on his lips. He reciprocated in his sleep, and I rewarded him by deepening it. He let out a soft moan and his eyes fluttered open.

I pulled away. "Why, good morning."

"Oh no you don't," he said groggily, and pulled me back toward him. He sat up as we kissed, his hand winding itself into my curls. I let out a moan of my own, and he pulled me onto his lap, his tongue probing my lips.

They parted and he took full advantage. Not willing to play submissive, I slipped my hand under his shirt and let my nails graze along his spine. He responded by crushing me to him and lying down, so that I was on top of him.

He pulled away and looked up into my eyes, his own sparkling in undisguised delight.

"Ms. Kerwin- lovely to see you this morning."

"And you, Mr. Manning," I countered, with a faux dignified air. "Though I am obliged to point out that it is, in fact, early evening."

He laughed and smiled. "Sounds pretty much like my typical day."

I laughed with him. "You're such a rock star."

I sat up then, and he propped himself up on his elbows.

"So what's the plan for the concert?" I asked.

Craig went through his mental checklist. "Tomorrow we have rehearsals with Funkasaurus Rex – they're the band playing with us – so we can fine tune everything." He made a face. "I hate the rehearsals."

I nodded, waiting for him to continue.

"Tomorrow night we have the Purple Dragon party to go to, since they're sponsoring this. Then on Sunday we practice again, then load the bus, perform, then right after than we mingle for a little then hop on the bus to go to the airport to head to Europe."

"Wow. Jam-packed schedule."

He rolled his eyes. "Don could keep me busier."

"What's happening tonight?"

"Don wanted to give you and I some time alone."

I laughed. "It's only been a week!"

Craig's face was serious. "That's a long time."

"Craig, we've been separated for a lot longer than that."

His eyes grew sad and he drew me back down to him as he lay down, my head resting on his chest.

'And I never, ever want to be away from you for that long ever again," he declared softly. "I was - I am – so lost without you."

I kissed his chest, and then snuggled into him.

"And I, you," I whispered.


End file.
